


your eyes aren't rivers there to weep

by Bamf_babe



Series: Primordial [1]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast), The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: BAMF Jaskier | Dandelion, M/M, Morally Ambiguous Character, Oxenfurt Academy, This is The Witcher but with the entities, also gets a friend from the vast, and that character is Jaskier, he gets better overtime tho, jaskier takes some statements and makes people cry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:15:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24906688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bamf_babe/pseuds/Bamf_babe
Summary: In the continent where supernatural creatures roam and chaos reigns there are fourteen entities that each host a primal fear of the world. For generations, the Pankratz family has served the eye but a young Julian Pankratz feels that there must be more planned for him that wasting away in the Archives of The Oxenfurt Academy. So he leaves.This is the story of how Jaskier found himself and his connection to his god.This is the story of the Ceaseless Watcher and its bard.orWhat if the Entities existed in the Witcher Universe?
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Primordial [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1802239
Comments: 23
Kudos: 171





	your eyes aren't rivers there to weep

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Emamel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emamel/gifts).



Jaskier has always been watched. For many, the feeling of constant eyes tracing every movement, the understanding that soon you will be exposed for everything you are, and the knowledge of you lies laid bare is something to fear. For Jaskier, this feeling is comfort. He was never alone and by his nature is not a deceiver so it is never any harm for him to expose his innermost thoughts. That must be why his patron likes him. 

When he was a boy still his mother would hold him close and whisper into his ear, “Julian, my darling boy, in our family we have a God watching over us. All you have to do in return is feed the Eye.”

The Pankratz’s were famous along the continent for being the family behind the Oxenfurt Academy. Inside the hallowed halls, centuries of information and stories were held. From across the continent, people would journey to share their encounters. It was an academy of learning but also an institute of secrets. 

The 14 Fears manifested themselves in such a variety of ways that there was never a lack of statements to collect from unfortunate individuals who encountered them. The Lonely could be found in something as mundane as a foggy path from the woods or in an immense a place as the entirety of the Brokilon forest. The Slaughter in Calanthe’s court or Es Mentiras in the walls of Aretuza. Beings of all races would find themselves encountering something that was supernatural and horrifying and then find themselves drawn to Oxenfurt Academy to share their statement. There was a feeling that would simply compel them to find someone who they thought would understand them. 

The Pankratz family was lucky to have allied itself with the Web for oh so many years. Their plucking on the strings off will and want made it so much easier to collect the statements they needed to fuel their god. Of course, once someone arrived at the academy they would not be able to help but share their experience.

Every member of the family found a place to belong, to collect and archive the stories people gave. When Jaskier still held onto the name Julian, when he was still a child holding onto the blind faith of the Ceaseless Watcher, he tried so hard to find his place. Julian tried to write down the stories to store but found it dull and uninspiring. Then later he even tried to paint the stories into great works of art. Even then, there was never a feeling of rightness or goodness. 

No matter how much Julian tried to find purpose in Oxenfurt, there was no satisfaction to be found. Every member of the Pankratz family was blessed with the gifts of the Eye whether they desired it or not. Julian was able to compel others to answer his questions with just a hint of a question in his tone. Some family members more in tune with the Eye could tap into further powers and even  _ Know _ . Others could push memories and experiences into your head as if they were your own.

Julian was never close to that advanced. The types of powers you could access varied from person to person and depended on how you gave yourself to the Eye. These gifts, however, came with drawbacks. Until your dying day, you were bound to the Eye and everything you knew what its. Every scrap of knowledge you collected, every experience would join into the Eye’s collective knowledge, giving it more to live off of. The Eye thrived in the experience of man. To leave, you would have to blind yourself, to cut yourself off from the experience of slight, and stop the Ceaseless Watcher from acquiring your experiences. It was not a path commonly taken. 

It was for this reason that when Julian made the decision to give himself the name Jaskier and leave the continent his family acquiesced far easier than many would expect. Clearly, whatever purpose Jaskier was supposed to give to the Eye would not be found in the dreary and fear-ridden statements found in Oxenfurt. And it was just as well he preferred Jaskier to any other address, the Pankratz name was a heavy one in certain circles of the Continent. So, off Jaskier went with nothing more than the weight of his patron god on his back. 

He will never forget his first statement. There was a man, sitting in a back corner of a tavern, his face drawn and deeply lined. There was a feeling of insignificance about him. Something about the man made Jaskier want to slide his eyes right over him, to see him as just a small part of their endless world. It was in fact this lack of specialty that drew Jaskier to the old man. He sat across from the man and watched as darkened shadows played across the lines on the other’s face. 

“Hello,” Jaskier began. “I couldn’t help but notice you were sitting alone and thought you might like company on this dreary day.”

There was a feeling of something bubbling beneath his chest but he had no idea what it meant or how to assuage it. Without even noticing he had begun to pull ought a notebook, quill, and inkpot. 

The man finally caught his eye and suddenly Jaskier was overcome with a feeling of vertigo. They were bright, almost electric blue.

“I suppose this is not a shock for me,” the man said, his voice was quiet but in a strange way as if coming from another room. Jaskier began to get a distinct feeling that the man was moving away from him even as they sat next to eachother. 

The man continued, “I have been as I am for years and yet not one of you has yet to find me.”

Jaskier was almost vibrating with a strange energy and without knowing where the knowledge came from words began spilling from his mouth, “You jumped and The Falling Titan caught you.”

The smile the man had seemed to almost float onto his face. There was a smell of ozone in the air, “Yes, and luckily you caught me in a nice mood. I have just spent my summer in the Blue Mountains meeting new friends and travelers. I am perfectly willing to offer myself to the Beholding in return for the more of the relative peace I have enjoyed these past few years.”

Jaskier had never been able to collect stories. When he tried, people responded in a jumbled mess. They were not coherent and there was no sense of narrative symmetry. He could compel small facts and questions but had never previously had the power to properly compel a statement out of someone. He had seen his older sister do it. He understood the mechanics. Clearly this Avatar of the Vast was ready and willing to give a statement, something that he as a servant of the Beholding could not pass up but would he have the power?

Then, he felt a thrumming behind his eyes. There was a static feeling in the air that mixed with the little sparks in the eyes of the Vast across from him. Without understanding how Jaskier knew exactly what he needed to say.

“Statement of Arnoldo of Taina. Regarding a trip up the Dragon Mountains. Original statement given August 12th, 1238. Transcription by Julian of the Pankratz family, servants of the Ceaseless Watcher."

The man, Arnoldo, smiled and took a sip of his drink as Jaskier said, “Statement Begins.”

“I was a danger-prone child.” Arnoldo began. “My parents were very concerned about me killing myself before the age of 10. You see, we lived in Taina, a small town nestled in the Dragon Mountains. We had to be a mostly self-sustaining town as few would be caught trading that high into the realm of dragons. For 8 months out of the year, snow would cover the ground and I would delight in jumping off of roofs into deep snow. However, the more I jumped the less exciting it became as normality set in. I would find higher and higher locations to leap off into, each time landing in the snow in a cascade of white. 

It came to a head one April day when the snow was beginning to melt and I leaped off the barn and landed in some snow that was not quite deep enough and my leg snapped. 

I remember, sitting there, staring. The bone was protruding from the leg yet I did not cry out. I was not scared of the pain or the crunch. I was still reveling in the fall, the idea that I had jumped and been hurt but I was still here. My parents found me, all of 9 years old, almost catatonic. My the time they brought me to the village healer I was to be stuck with a slight limp as the bone never healed quite right. Well, I was lucky not to have lost it. 

After that, my parents kept me away from tall buildings and even stopped me from climbing trees. I bared it for a time but I began to have visions of leaping and letting the wind catch me. Granted, I do not think I had a sickness of the mind. I never had death as my goal. There was never a consideration that these jumps, these leaps might kill me. I always viewed my experience falling from the barn to be the worst that might happen. I never thought about the landing, only the leap. 

By the time I was 16, I could no longer stand it and left home in favor of becoming a guide for travelers through the mountains. I would set up shop in Caingorn and wait for enterprising travelers to attempt to enter the Dragon Mountains in search of glory. I never cared for or asked for their reasons. I would accept their meager payments and lead them into the tall peaks. I was cheaper than the other guides due to my leg and as such received a fair amount of business. However, I did not guide for coin. There was something special about the process of trekking higher and higher into the mountains. To watch the town disappear in the layer of clouds. And sometimes, the traveler ould falter would take a misstep and fall right off the edge and I would watch them disappear into the mists. 

It was the most delightful feeling. Yet, I felt myself holding a desire to experience that same fall. I grew tired of watching others experience my dreams. I knew that if I fell, there was something that could catch me. 

I built a path to the top of the mountains you know? It is a series of old wooden boards held together by nails pounded into the mountain and nothing but a chain to hold onto. It is so easy to fall and get lost. One day I simply knew that this was the day I was going to fall. I had a traveler with me, they were nothing special and now looking back at it I cannot recall anything about whoever they were. But they would help me in becoming so I suppose I must thank them for that. 

We were walking along the path when I set my foot down on a board that was just a little loose and I let my body fall right into the mist below me. The person that watched me fall gave me a thrill. It was exciting, I suppose, to allow someone to see me becoming.

When I fell, I didn’t fear hitting the ground. The Falling Titan enveloped me as I accepted my utter insignificance. It was ecstasy.”

Jaskier let out a shaking breath. There was energy flowing through him, different than anything he had ever felt before. It was practically euphoric. Is this what his family meant when they talked about their connection to the Eye? His whole life, Jaskier had felt a vague disconnect from his family’s patron, but here, after taking his first statement he finally understood what they meant.

“S-statement Ends,” He said, his voice a little shaky from the energy pushing through him. 

He breathed, “Thank you for your time, Arnoldo. I wish you well in whatever travels you have ahead.”

Arnoldo smiled that same unsettling grin and got up. He turned towards a Witcher with twin swords at the end of the bar. 

“Don’t worry, Watcher, I think I will be just fine. I might just gain a new friend in that Witcher and follow him back to his home in the Tir Tochair mountains.”

He turns back towards Jaskier one last time and the dim light coming from the window seems to be enveloping the man, making him harder to see, to understand.

“The best meal you will ever have always comes from a Witcher.”

Then he was gone. He had been swallowed by the Sky. Suddenly Jaskier took a full breath and realized how shallow his breathing had been this whole time. The tavern seemed...less for lack of a better term. It was smaller perhaps or even dimmer? He had never encountered an avatar of the Vast before and found it a thrilling experience. It was missing an aspect that it held before and Jaskier decided to leave. He missed the feeling. 

He looked down at what he had written in the Notebook while he listened to Arnoldo. Jaskier had been in an almost trance-like state and hadn’t much thought about what he was putting on the page. It was not, however, Arnoldo’s statement. It was instead, what looked like a poem. Similar, perhaps, to the tale that he was told but in a lyrical style.

_ Oh in the mountains, beware, beware  _

_ Rocky paths can be lost to air _

_ A mountain goat can stem its fear _

_ But man alas, he cannot adhere _

_ Hear the Titan’s crooning cry  _

_ To your previous life, say goodbye _

_ A child silent sitting still  _

_ Between the broken blood and bone  _

_ Unable to summon the tears _

_ To explain their lack of fear _

_ Like falling snow, like falling snow, let go, let go _

_ Like falling snow, like falling snow, let go, let go _

_ Like falling snow, like falling snow, let go, let go _

_ Oh to what heights we cannot go  _

_ Let go  _

_ Let go _

It was an entirely strange poem. Jaskier could feel the statement it was hiding within. There was a power to the lyrics and even as he read them back he gained the last feelings of vertigo that had left alongside Arnoldo. It was as if by capturing his story he had captured just a little bit of the essence of the entity in the statement. It felt powerful and the more Jaskier looked at it, forgetting his previous desire to leave the tavern, the more he got the sense that it was not a poem he had written down but perhaps a melody. It could even be a song. He felt the ghost of whispered notes and chords in the words begin to form. Jaskier couldn’t tell if the notes were whispered to him by the Web, the Eye, the Vast, some combination of, or if his own mind was fabricating these ideals. 

But the more he looked at it the more certain he became that this was a song, not just a poem. Of course, as a child in Oxenfurt, he was proficient in a number of instruments and greatly enjoyed the Lute particularly. Jaskier had never considered music a path to serving the Eye. He spotted a bard in the corner, lute at his feet. The moment he saw it Jaskier felt himself being pulled towards the man. 

“200 Ducats for the lute at your feet,” he said. It was a ridiculously high price and the Bard knew it. He could likely buy a nicer lute with the money Jaskier was offering. He handed it over without complaint and Jaskier felt himself sitting on the small platform the tavern had for performers. He began to play the notes he heard in his head. He began playing a rhythm of Am - Dm- Em in a slow, mournful pattern. It felt dreary and many people turned their heads in anger. Yet, as soon as Jaskier began speaking people stopped raising their voices and began simply listening. 

He sang the song softly and it almost sounded like it was whistling down from the mountain tops itself. Without him even noticing, people began to raise themselves from their seats and seemingly try to raise themselves higher. Some were even clambering onto their tables and bars. When he started slowly singing  _ let go, let go _ , people began to fall. It was not from particularly great heights but they fell all the same. One woman twisted her ankle particularly badly but did not even seem to notice. 

Once he finished the song everyone seemed to snap out of whatever haze they were in and go back to talking amongst one another and shouting at Jaskier. The woman who hurt her ankle screamed. 

Jaskier himself seemed to be snapping out of a fog and the rush of knowing and experiencing he felt as he sang began to drain away only to be replaced with the dawning horror of what he had done. Granted, no one had been seriously injured but he should have stopped the moment that woman had been hurt. What hadn’t he stopped? What would have happened if he had placed this song just a little bit closer to a cliff or where people could climb trees instead of tables?

He wanted to begin ripping out the pages of the book right then and there but something was stopping him. He felt more powerful and more connected to the Eye than ever before. Jaskier  _ Knew _ that if he wanted to he could  _ Know  _ anything about any person in this tavern right now. The same way, he also  _ Knew  _ that each and every one of these people had been marked, just a little, by the Vast and if they were to ever encounter an entity in their lives it would likely be the Falling Titan. 

Perhaps there was a way to continue gathering statements and information for the eye without having this strong an effect on people. It was odd, but it somehow felt like not only did he take a statement from Arnoldo but that the energy of the statement gained potency with every person that listened to the song. It was as if the sharing of the statement made its power multiply. This was an occurrence that had never been documented in the history of the Pankratz family. It was holey unique to Jaskier and he was more than a little worried about what exactly that might mean. 

That night when he sleeps he dreams of Arnoldo. The man is falling, falling, falling into an endless dark sky, and perhaps somewhere in the sky there are mountains but Jsakier cannot tell where. 

“Hello, little Watcher!!” he calls out eagerly, suddenly at Jaskier’s side.

Arnoldo looks different from when Jaskier saw him in the tavern. His eyes are now pure glowing navy blue and seem to be larger, stretching out onto other parts of his face, almost eating them up. His body is longer, looser, perhaps more spindly but Jaskier cannot be completely sure. He can’t quite see where some parts end. 

Jaskier tries to speak but finds his voice stolen from him in the rush of air.

“It’s quite alright!” The man says, and his voice comes across completely clear, not at all impacted by the rushing air around them, “I can speak enough for the both of us. This must be your first time doing this. You look fantastic if I do say so myself. Quite a few more eyes than earlier but I believe the look suits you. Blue is a beautiful color can’t you agree?”

Jaskier has no idea what they man is talking about but he nods along anyways. 

“Most of the time, you Watchers are not this aware of well, watching us in our dreams. I must imagine that’s either due to the connections we both have to our respective gods or due to how new at all these you seem. Really ought to get that under control, otherwise visiting hundreds of dreams in a night will get rather tiring.”

Again, Jaskier can only nod. He does not completely understand what is happening. His older sister may have mentioned once or twice traveling to dreams of statement-givers but he hadn’t considered that might happen to him. And what did the man mean by eyes? 

For a while they kept falling, Arnoldo looking completely at peace with himself. Jaskier just fell alongside him, watching. Then as suddenly as he appeared in the dream, Jaskier found himself waking up in the same small bed he fell asleep in. Huh. 

Over the years, Jaskier began to gain a feeling of what to sing and how to sing it. He would take statements and they would always end up transcribed in a lyrical form. However, as his lute abilities increased so did his repertoire of songs. Simply because a chord whispered to him did not mean that it would perfectly fit the song. He could tweak the mood to the song ever so slightly and it would change the impact it had on the audience. Of course, not every song was as potent as the first he wrote. 

He ended up discovering that the potency of the song had a lot to do with who the statement-giver was. If Jaskier was taking a statement from an Avatar then the song would ripple out the effects of the entity. If it was merely someone who had contact with an entity it would only leave listening with a vague fear related to whichever patron was sung about. As well, by adjusting the chord progression he could make a song about say, the Flesh, make the listener either just a little peckish or ravenous enough to begin tearing off their own flesh. 

It was a new form of statement taking that once news reached his family, they encouraged. Jaskier himself found quite a bit of joy in it. When he was taking statements, he was serving his God as Julian Pankratz and continuing his family’s work. However, when he was singing he was Jaskier the bard, changing minds and souls with his music. 

Of course, Jaskier did not perform every song he crafted. Many of the Avatar-given statements such as Arnoldo’s remained unsung in his notebook he held onto especially for those types of statements. He would only use those in the direst circumstances as they could be harder to control the effects of and unpredictable. After a few years on the road, he had collected statements from avatars of The Vast, Buried, Corruption, Flesh, and Desolation. He had tried to find Arnoldo a few months back in the hope that the man would lead him towards a Witcher so he could finally add The Hunt to his repertoire but he was nowhere to be found. Jaskier concluded he is likely falling from a very tall mountain somewhere. 

Jaskier also learned how to handle the dreams. He would appear in the dreams of every person or being he took a statement from and the more people he collected statements from the easier it became to handle the influx of dreams. He seemed to deeply unsettle most people and at this point has discovered that whatever form he took to them seemed to have quite a large collection of eyes and terrify them out of their minds. He never really interact with most of them. He spent most of his time, just watching. Jaskier would get to relive the statements they had already told him in a first-person perspective. It was enthralling. As he got better at it, he tried to tone down how much fear he brought out in people as their fear often interfered with their recollection but otherwise Jaskier was simply getting a better idea of his limits. 

Jaskier had been traveling for quite some time now, collecting Statements here and there but mostly on the lookout for Statements from other Avatar, no mage would let him get close enough to get a statement from the spiral and there was no way he would actively search out an avatar of the End so he had journeyed to Posada. The land practically reeked of the Slaughter and Jaskier hoped at least one avatar would tread the fields of Dol Blathanna. 

He never expected to see a Witcher in the tavern with him. Oh, this was too good. Jaskier had been hoping for the chance to take a statement from a Witcher for a long time. Unsurprisingly, the Hunt was rather difficult to pin down and they like being questioned even less. There were very few statements from even those touched by The Hunt in the halls of Oxenfurt, let alone Statements from their Avatars. 

Jaskier had been playing a song with no statements behind it in order to recharge so to speak when he noticed the Witcher. He wrapped up the music, ignoring the jeers and bread thrown at him in favor of walking towards the man. The closer he got, the most he noticed the aura of coldness that seemed to radiate off of him. It was odd. Most described the hunt as a feeling of being chased, the feeling of being small. However, Jaskier rather felt like the closer he moved to the Witcher, the more faceless the rest of the crowd became. He felt slowly more disconnected from everything around him and he was growing colder. 

He walked over unconcerned and said, “I love the way you just… sit in the corner and brood.”

It wasn’t until the man’s angry golden eyes met his that he realized that this particular Witcher wasn’t of the hunt. 

“I’m here to drink alone,” the man said in a deep and graveling voice. 

Jaskier smiled. He was of the forsaken. What a rare and delectable treat this was. A Witcher of the forsaken, not of the hunt. “Good. Yeah, good,” he said, forgetting himself and speaking out loud. 

He tried to pick up an actual conversation with the man, “No one else hesitated to comment on the quality of my performance, except… for you. Come on. You don’t want to keep a man with… bread in his pants waiting. You must have some review for me. Three words or less.”

Jaskier tried to give the man a way to speak a little less. He had dealt with people touched by the forsaken before if not avatars and they normally tend to the extreme side of taciturn. 

“They don’t exist,” the Witcher interrupted.

Jaskier paused his internal thoughts, “What don’t exist?”

The Witcher rolled his eyes, clearly hating to have to elaborate on his simple statement, “The creatures in your song.”

Jaskier puffed up, a little offended. Those had all been genuine descriptions from people. Sure, maybe he mixed up some aspects but this was no statement-song. And what would this Witcher know? He was not even of the Hunt but rather the Lonely. His credentials as a monster-hunter were in question here. He took a good look at this Witcher, stupid wolf that he was. Oh. This was not just any Witcher. Suddenly a good number of pieces fell into place. 

Jaskier gave a winning smile he had perfected, “And how would you know? Oh, fun. White hair… big, old loner, two very… very scary-looking swords. I know who you are.”

The Witcher stood up, trying to leave before Jaskier called out his name but the bard followed, saying, “You’re the Witcher, Geralt of Rivia. Called it.”

The Witcher, Geralt, turned around angrily but not before a man stopped him, offering him a job. Jaskier followed along. This had the makings of one of his best statements yet. He imagined the power a statement of an Avatar of the lonely that was so deeply touched by the Hunt could hold. The possibilities were endless. He was excited at the prospects of power he could gather onto. 

A few hours later Jaskier found himself listening to Geralt speak and he felt his resolve for taking his statements crumbling. 

“...Rebuild. Get strong again. Show the humans that you are more than what they fear you to be.”

And he was gone. Jaskier couldn’t condemn this man who had already had so much taken from him to nightmares. To send someone of The Lonely into the realm of the Beholding, well that was almost cruel. There was a reason Jaskier had yet to take a statement from The Lonely. Their two patrons were relatively opposed and Jaskier was now becoming attached to this man, this Witcher. 

As they were freed, Jaskier took a statement from Filavandrel about the happenings of their journey in order to tide him over. He felt the lyrics settle into his notebook and the chords begin to form themselves. Ah yes, he might not take a statement from Geralt but he would certainly be writing about Geralt. 

He couldn’t help but offer to turn around his reputation again. Jaskier could already see the songs and statements forming in his mind. Surely there would be no better way to gather statements than following a Witcher around? Entities were sure to appear in his path. 

Geralt got onto his horse and turned down to look at Jaskier and said, “This is where we part ways, bard, for good.”

Jaskier caught up to Geralt and spoke, “Look, I promised to change the public’s tune about you. At least allow me to try.”

Geralt turned around, “I have no desire for the type of fame that your god has to offer.”

“Ah, but right now you are hated and reviled. Very noticeable. It makes it hard to disappear into the background. However, if you are liked by people they pay you less attention. Makes it easier to be just another face in the crowd no?”

The Witcher paused and looked considering. Jaskier took this as his cue to begin singing the tune he had put together from Filavandrel’s statement. He changed a few key details of course, and since no particular entity involved themselves with this adventure there was no otherworldly element to the song but it still evoked emotion, and it was rather catchy too. 

Geralt sighed and tried to walk his horse into the lonely, Jaskier could already see the fog curling around the horse’s legs but Oh no he would not allow that. He made himself  _ know _ where Geralt was going and the presence of the Watcher seemed enough to make the Witcher rethink entering The Lonely to avoid him and he gave up, trotting his horse along the path like normal. 

Jaskier smiled, he could already tell this would be the start of a beautiful friendship. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Alright!! so this is a little baby universe rn, this is the first installment in what will hopefully be a series but right now I just have this written. I'm very exicted for this and can't wait to post more!!!! 
> 
> Let me know if u have particular questions about the entities or how they impact the Witcher Universe or how I imagine certain events or something playing out.
> 
> ALSO, I know that Jaskier and a lot of the servants of the Beholding seem a little suspiciously powered but I was thinking about it, and before Magnus took over everything the Eye was doing I bet most servants of the Eye had powers much like other entities give to everyone. Like every member of the Lightless Flame has abilities so why doesn't every member of the archive?? I bet Elias fucking did something. And he's not here now so I do want I want. And what I want is more people to be able to compel and take statements. And yes, maybe Jaskier is some kind of proto-archivist thing but at least Elias isn't pulling the strings.
> 
> Literally tho come talk to me about this hyper-specific niche crossover. 
> 
> I have my [witcher side-blog](https://bamf-jaskier.tumblr.com) and my [main tumblr](https://screwthepurplegiraffe.tumblr.com)


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